Sun reflects off freshly fallen snow, shining into my windows and melting me out of a deep slumber. The clock reads 7:42 a.m. — too early to be awake on a non-work day, but too late to make it worth going back to sleep.
After living in the South, getting out of bed on winter mornings while visiting my family’s home in Connecticut is extremely difficult. Just the thought of my toes touching the cold floor causes me to burrow deeper under my mountain of blankets.
However, when the sweet smell of my dad’s pancakes starts swirling under my door, I brave the frigid conditions. I throw a blanket cape-like around my shoulders, leap into my slippers, and shuffle downstairs.
Seated at the breakfast table, I take a moment to admire the beautiful stack of pillowy pancakes. I savor the first few bites of pancake perfection but quickly realize something is missing.
“Where’s the syrup?” I ask.
By the guilty look on my brother’s face, I know he just finished it. First mission of the day: get more.
A Connecticut household just isn’t complete without real New England maple syrup. A quick internet search reveals I can buy some straight from the source at Lamothe’s Sugar House in Burlington, Connecticut — and off I go.
Entering the warm and cozy country showroom, I’m greeted by friendly faces and samples of maple-raspberry jam, coffee, maple lollipops, warm mulled cider, and maple coffee. In addition to three grades of syrup, the shop sells melt-in-your-mouth Pure Maple Candy and Cream, Pure Maple Flavor Drops, Maple Walnut Caramels, Maple Salt Water Taffy, and Peanut Clusters.
Bakers can buy local honey or Pure Granulated Maple Sugar, which can be sprinkled on toast and ice cream or used as a white or brown sugar substitute.
“Wow, so much for just buying syrup,” I unintentionally utter aloud.
“That’s one of the things that makes us unique,” replies the woman behind the counter, who has apparently heard me. “There’s no other sugar house in the state that makes over thirty maple products. I’ll get my husband to tell you about the place. He loves to talk!”
She sends a scout to retrieve the man behind the family-owned business. The rosy-cheeked Rob Lamothe appears wearing a big grin and dusty overalls, happily offering to give me “the nickel tour.”
Humble Beginnings
Rob and his wife Jean had a self-sustaining spirit from the beginning. They produced all their own food (except for rice and wheat) and independently renovated the dilapidated farm they purchased.
Forty-two years ago, they found six or seven taps in a kitchen drawer and decided to embark on a maple syrup–making family project. Knowing nothing about the process, Rob headed to the library to do some research.
“We didn’t have a pot to pee in, so we started out very basic — using simple techniques and collecting sap in buckets,” he explains. Then he jokes, “I’ll show you my computer. I carry it with me!”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen, smirking: “I’m old school.”
Their first harvest was minimal, but the new hobby kept the family together. Rob continued tapping trees and collecting syrup after coming home from his full-time aeronautics job.
The number of taps grew — from 13 to 35, then 55. While the venture was successful, Rob never dreamed of selling his product commercially.
That changed when a man trudging through the mud asked to buy a quart. Rob happily obliged.
“The light bulb went off and we decided to produce our product commercially,” he says.
Today, they have 5,500 taps and 25 miles (40 kilometers) of plastic tubing collecting sap across more than 360 acres (146 hectares). Since sap is 98% water and only 2% sugar, one tap produces only one quart of syrup per season.
With this many taps, Lamothe’s Sugar House is now the largest producer of maple products in Connecticut.
Turning Sap Into Syrup
The maple-sugaring season only lasts about four to six weeks, from mid-February through late March, when freezing nights are followed by thawing days. “Just like cutting your finger,” Rob explains — the temperature change causes the sap to flow.
With the new system, Rob collects sap in a 54-mile (87-kilometer) loop across three Connecticut towns, beginning around 4:00 p.m. Since sap spoils quickly, the goal is to turn it into syrup before bedtime — even if that means staying up until 5 a.m.
The process begins with filtering the sap and using UV light to kill bacteria. Then comes the “Sap Brother,” a reverse osmosis machine that dramatically improves efficiency.
“Buying this guy was a tipping point,” Rob recalls. “The whole family got together at one of our weekly meetings and unanimously decided to invest.”
After the Sap Brother separates the sugar concentrate from the water, the evaporator boils away the excess. Sweet, steamy air fills the sugar house until the syrup is ready to be stored in stainless steel barrels.
A Special Business in More Ways Than One
In addition to syrup, the Lamothes sell farm-raised pork — a tradition started by Rob’s Slavic father-in-law. While Rob didn’t know much about raising pigs, his wife knew a thing or two about curing and smoking meats.
“To be a farmer, you’ve gotta have the grit,” Rob declares. “I’m 65 years old and I don’t plan on stopping. If the Lord’s going to take me, He can come in the afternoon.”
After 9/11, Rob feared the business might not survive, selling a product nobody truly needed. But customers kept coming — loyal to supporting local food and real connections.
“People want to connect to the farmers,” Rob explains. “They want to know where to go for food when the power goes out.”
For Rob, getting to know his clients is one of the most rewarding parts of the job. “In agriculture, you leave a big impression on a lot of people,” he says. “When I die, quite a few will say, ‘I learned a lot from that old fart.’”
He’s taught scouts, mentored workers, and forged community bonds. One regular customer continues shopping there despite battling cancer — and Rob greets her with genuine affection.
He’s also planted over 2,000 trees. Since you can’t tap a tree until it’s at least 40 years old, he won’t benefit — but he’s proud to leave that legacy.
When Rob and Jean started this project 42 years ago, they never imagined becoming Connecticut’s largest maple producer. But hard work, heart, and family made it happen.
Even with updated machinery, Rob’s old-school values shine through every drop of syrup. Maybe it’s a luxury, but supporting a local farm feels like something worth savoring — especially over pancakes on a cold winter morning.
